


Can You Feel it the Way I Do?

by wesawbears



Series: Andante, Andante [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 04:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesawbears/pseuds/wesawbears
Summary: It takes eight months of marriage and a trip to Pyke for Theon and Sansa to stop pining after each other and make good on their feelings. A lot of Theon pining and generally being oblivious before getting the kick he needs from Yara. Part of a series but can be read on its own.





	Can You Feel it the Way I Do?

By the time Sansa and Theon had been married eight moons or so, things had thawed considerably between them. They took their meals together instead of Theon staying in his room and at night they’d sometimes walk together, trying to reclaim some good memories of their home. He even knew what it was like to hold her now, as she had started coming to his chambers when she had nightmares, or if the memories of her parents became too much to bear now that their room was hers.

The problem with knowing these things, however, was that he now knew what it was to want them. His feelings for Sansa had grown beyond political and beyond friendship. It was an unfortunate testament to the general tone of his life that loving his wife only served to make things more complicated. He didn’t want to ruin the tentative arrangement between them. She trusted him, confided in him more than he thought himself worthy of. Still, he would never demand anything of her. Whatever she was willing to give, he would happily accept.

The last thing he expects is when she asks him to accompany her on a diplomatic trip to Pyke. 

He raised an eyebrow at her expectant look. “No northerner has set foot on the Iron Islands since the last rebellion.”

“There is a first time for everything.”

He tries again, this time appealing to her affinity for public approval. “Your bannermen will think it unwise.”

“My bannermen are sworn to me and to follow my judgement. I want to speak to Yara about keeping the peace. And I want to learn more about where my husband is from.”

She’s going to kill him one of these days. He clears his throat. “It’s really nothing special, my lady.”

“It’s still a part of you.”

He nods, knowing that once her mind is set on something, there is no swaying her. She smiles, at last cracking the stony facade she puts on and it takes a few moments for his heart to resume beating.

\--

Trips such as these take time to arrange and prepare for, so they don’t leave for another two moons after that. The voyage isn’t the longest he’s had, but it’s not an overly pleasant one, laden with rough seas. Sansa doesn’t take to it well, having never travelled the rocky seas near Pyke. He wants to comfort her, but doesn’t know how close he’s allowed to get outside the safety of one of their rooms. He settles for distracting her with stories about the Drowned God and the sea. They play a game she taught him on a trip to King’s Landing, where they tried to guess where all the ships were going- the more outlandish the better. If your tale was too plausible, you lost. Theon knows any Iron Islander would scoff at this game and call it childish, but she smiles when he makes up a story about one ship carrying crates of lemon cakes and he can’t find it in himself to feel badly when she looks at him like that.

They dock eventually and Sansa’s traded her customary dresses for trousers to keep up with the customs, which seems a profoundly unfair thing to do to him. She looks every bit the wife he’d imagined he’d have in another life. 

Before he can take himself down that dark spiral, he takes her hand and helps her off the boat and onto the horses waiting to take them on the trek up to Pyke. They arrive to find Yara waiting to receive them in her solar. Sansa, ever vigilant of the customs of where she visited, did not curtsy, but waited to be addressed. Theon saw the subtle way Yara looked Sansa up and down and instinctively reached out to rest his hand on Sansa’s arm. 

Yara saw him move and smirked, but didn’t say anything. Yet. Sansa noticed his action and sent him a questioning look, but didn’t move out of his hold, which was encouraging. She went to retire shortly after, saying the trip had left her exhausted, but Theon was called back by Yara when he started to follow.

“Leaving so soon, brother?” She was smirking, and he could only guess what that meant.

“My wife is ill. I need to help her.”

“She’ll be fine for five minutes while you say hello to your sister.”

He nodded in acquiescence and she scoffed lightly at his sullen silence. “Are you angry for how I looked at your wife?”

He tried not to look petulant. “I’m not angry.”

“She’s a beautiful woman. She deserves to be appreciated.”

“I do appreciate her,” he said, knowing he’d already lost this battle.

Yara raised an eyebrow. “Have you even kissed her?”

Theon looked down. “I’m not going to force her to do something she doesn’t want.”

Yara snorted.

“What?” he asked, exasperated.

“She wants you to.”

“How do you know what she wants? You’ve met her once.”

“I have eyes. You may want to use yours every once in a while.” When he didn’t respond, Yara reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not sitting through two weeks of pining looks and moping. Just...talk to your wife.”

He nodded and this time when he turned to leave she didn’t stop him.

\--

He arrived at their rooms and went to check on Sansa instead of heading directly to his own chamber. These halls still held many ghosts for him, but at least it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. She was laying out her outfits, a habit he knew she resorted to in times of uncertainty. 

He knocked lightly. “How are you settling in, my lady?”

She looked up and smiled faintly. “Better. I’m sure some rest will help me get back in sorts.”

He nodded, unsure of what to say, while every part of him screamed at him to say something, anything.

“Theon? Are you alright?”

He dragged his face up to hers. “Yes. I’m fine. Just tired as well. I will see you in the morning. Good night, my lady.”

He turned and left before she could finish saying good night.

\--

He woke the next morning feeling no better about his situation after a fitful sleep. When he finally made his way to breakfast, he found that Sansa and Yara were already there. He ignored their stares and at mostly in silence, while they talked business. He hardly noticed how much time had passed until he heard his name and found Sansa looking down at him. She raised an eyebrow and he realized she must have asked him something.

“Pardon, my lady?”

“I asked if you would show me the sea.”

That threw him out of his reverie. “I- me?”

She chuckled lightly. “Yes, you. Who else?”

He could practically feel Yara’s eyes burning into him from behind Sansa and cursed himself for not getting to the hall before Yara could talk to Sansa alone. He forced a smile and said, “Of course, my lady.”

She smiled and stood, waiting for him to follow, which he did. He’d follow her anywhere.

They made their way to the rocky shore and he watched as Sansa looked out at the waves, before moving to stand next to her. 

“It’s not very pretty,” he said.

She looked over at him briefly before nodding. “No. But there’s still something about it. What were the words again?”

“We do not sow?”

She shook her head. “No. The other ones.”

“What is dead may never die.”

“That’s it. There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

He swallowed and continued. “What is dead may never die,” the words felt like rust in his throat, “but rises again, harder and stronger.”

“Harder and stronger,” she echoed. “Like us.”

He looked at her in surprise, but nodded. “I suppose so.”

She looked out at the sea again before being overtaken by some apparent madness and starting to walk into it.

“My lady!” he calls and hurries after her, as fast as he can manage with his poor balance. By the time he reaches her, she’s already dipped her head under the water and come back up again. He stares at her while she laughs and is about to ask if she’s feeling well when the words die in his throat.

“Kiss me,” she asks and he struggles to make his mouth work. “What?”

She rolls her eyes and looks at him in that imperious way she has. “Kiss me.”

The touch of her hand brushing his must infect him with whatever has possessed her, because he draws her close to him and presses his lips to hers, gently at first, but growing more passionate. They end up clutching at each other and laughing a little breathlessly into the kisses.

Once they’ve pulled away, he looks at her incredulously. “You’re soaked.”

“So are you,” she says, running her hands through his hair.

He knows they should go inside and clean up and talk about...whatever just happened, but for now he’s content to pull her in again and kiss her until he can’t remember anything but her.


End file.
